


no grave can hold my body down

by destieltrash (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bela is so in love with Charlie and she doesn't even know it, Charlie is a delinquent, F/F, bela needs to take herself less seriously, femslash is good for the soul
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-17 18:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4676855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/destieltrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I'll crawl home to her</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>in which bela falls for a nerdy redhead long before hellhounds break down her door, and charlie falls for a girl with black eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We're pretending season 10 didn't happen, yeah?

_I woke with her walls around me_

The first time Bela met Charlie, Bela was not exactly in top flirting mode.

Specifically, she was lying on a vinyl mattress, a six inch gash in her stomach, in an abandoned warehouse.

Looking around, Bela could see that the place was empty. Clearly, someone had left her here. There wasn't as much dust as there should've been, given the condition of the building, and there were cans of food and bottles of water arranged neatly by Bela's mattress.

Bela tried to sit up, but she had to fall back again. Looking down at herself, Bela frowned. She was in just her bra, her shirt lying ripped and bloodstained a couple meters away. Her wound was bandaged, not expertly, but carefully.

"Christ," Bela muttered. She still had her boots on, and she could feel the knife hidden there pressed against her ankle. There was that, at least. Her jacket was nearby, and Bela strained to reach it. Thankfully, her gun was still in her jacket, as was the Invictus pendant she'd come to this town to steal.

This left Bela with two conclusions.

The first was that one of Bela's few allies had happened across her and had taken care of her.

The second was that a total stranger had found her, not called an ambulance, and had taken care of her.

Both were very, very unlikely. But there was no other possibility. 

In any case, Bela had to get out of this town, and quickly. Last night she'd been attacked as she was going back to the hotel she was staying in. It had likely been a common ghost, given the usual theatrics and the fact that she wasn't dead right now. Still, Bela remembered trying to stumble to a payphone, because her cell had broken during the attack. She remembered too much blood loss. Bela closed her eyes, trying to remember the rest of the night.

A girl.

Bela's raspy voice: "Don't take me to the hospital."

Right. Bela opened her eyes. She'd pulled her damn gun on the girl, ordering her not to take her to a hospital. Bela couldn't believe the redhead had still taken care of her.

"Oh, good, you're alive!"

The chirpy voice irritated Bela immediately. Grabbing the gun, Bela pointed it at the girl who'd just walked in, a smile on her face and a red and gold backpack.

"Nope," said the girl, laughing. "I took the bullets out. Real classy, by the way, telling me at gunpoint not to take you to the hospital."

Bela stared at the girl. Sure enough, when Bela checked, there were no bullets.

"Well." Bela cleared her throat. "I couldn't go to a hospital."

The girl raised an eyebrow. "And just why the fuck not? You're injured, aren't you?"

This girl was full of surprises, wasn't she? It was annoying the hell out of Bela.

"Reasons. Give me the bullets back," Bela said brusquely. "Even with this, there's a lot I can do to you."

To Bela's surprise, the girl sat down against a wall, opening her laptop. "No. You need rest."

"I'm threatening you, sweetheart," Bela said, sitting up despite the pain in her stomach. "I will happily make good on those threats."

The girl sighed. "I swear to God, you're more macho than the football players at my school. Drink some water, lie down, and I'll change your bandage in a minute."

Exactly three things kept Bela from standing up, knocking the girl out, and leaving.

One, the girl had done her a service, and Bela hated being in debt.

Two, Bela really was very tired. And in pain. If the girl was going to be kind, Bela decided not to stop her.

And three. The girl was apparently fearless, clearly underage, and out saving the lives of random, armed young women. Bela knew a thing or two about bad parents, and this girl had a set of them.

She lay back down.

The redhead smiled. "Good girl. I'm Charlie."

"Diane Turner." Bela wasn't going to give out her name to just anyone who saved her life.

Charlie looked up at Bela, a genuine smile on her face. "Nice to meet you, Diane."

That afternoon, they talked for almost an hour. Charlie laughed a lot, which was a surprisingly welcome change to surly hunters and greasy businesspeople.

"I slept for how long?" Bela asked, her eyes widening. Charlie raised an eyebrow, laughing. 

"Only, like, twelve hours," she said. "That's usually how much I sleep, don't worry about it."

"I never need that much sleep," Bela said, frowning. She'd found a spell recently that allowed her to sleep only two or three hours a night. A month of that had spoiled Bela, she'd decided to never go back to regular sleeping schedules.

Charlie shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it. Your body just needs some rest."

Bela nodded, grabbing a water bottle and taking a sip.

"So, you planning on telling me why you didn't want to go to a hospital?" asked Charlie, looking up from her screen momentarily.

"If you tell me what you're doing," said Bela, inclining her head at Charlie's laptop.

"Hacking Bank of America. Your turn," replied Charlie, like she was checking her email. Bela looked at her for a moment.

"I heal fast," Bela said after a moment.

"Liar," Charlie said, turning her attention back to the computer. Bela blinked.

"I... don't heal fast?"

"Oh, you might, I don't know. But no normal person would point a gun at me and refuse an ambulance," said Charlie. Her eyes narrowed, her incessant typing speeding up.

"Haven't you figured out I'm not normal?"

"True," Charlie said, laughing. "You're not going to call the cops on me?"

Bela shook her head. "I don't use Bank of America," she said, shrugging.

Charlie's typing slowed, and she looked up at Bela. "Are you some kind of criminal or something?"

"Or something," Bela said, smiling. Charlie considered that.

"So Diane Turner isn't your real name."

"Quite quick on the uptake, aren't you?"

Charlie kissed one fist and held up two fingers. "Top of my class." Her gaze was fixed on her screen.

Bela snorted. "Like that has anything to do with anything."

Charlie grinned. "Guess not."

They sat for a minute, the warehouse silent but for the clicking keys on Charlie's computer.

"Dammit!" muttered Charlie, staring at the screen. Her fingers had stilled.

"What?" asked Bela.

"Didn't work. Their firewalls are actually effective," said Charlie, sighing.

"As opposed to?"

"Other firewalls."

"Are you going to try again?"

Charlie grinned crookedly at her. "Of course I am." She closed her computer and stood up. "But not today. I'll come back tomorrow, okay?"

Bela nodded, grinning. "Okay, Charlie. Bye."

Charlie waved goodbye, tucking her laptop under her arm as she left. Bela stared up at the ceiling. This was an odd situation she'd gotten herself into. While Charlie was trustworthy when it came to the police (golden rule: don't snitch), there was no way she could be trusted if one of Bela's... colleagues came around.

So Bela reached into her jacket and pulled out the Invictus pendant. It had a lot of uses, first and foremost being that it protected the wearer from harm. Or, it fixed any harm already done. Bela put the pendant on and lay down, feeling her flesh start to wriggle as her wound began healing. It felt odd, slightly ticklish, but it didn't hurt.

By nightfall, Bela was good as new.

When Charlie returned the next morning, she walked in to find a thousand dollars lying on the mattress and Bela gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware the Deathly Hallows wasn't released when this story is set. Pretend it was.

_nothing in her room but an empty crib_

Six months had spun away from Bela before she realized she was back in Wisconsin.

Specifically, passing through Lafayette.

And Bela was wondering why she'd come here when she could've taken any other road, because she knew better than to go to a town more than once. She hadn't even remembered the town before seeing the little bar that was sitting right in the middle of a row of gray, identical office buildings. She'd laughed about it driving in six months ago, and she laughed about it driving in then.

Bela sighed. "Brilliant," she muttered to herself. Still. She was already there. And last time she'd gone to that bar, it had been pathetically easy to get free drinks.  
Bela was aware of exactly how attractive she was, and she wasn't above using it. 

Bela parked her car and made her way into the bar, picking over the uneven sidewalk delicately. She was in a tank top, skinny jeans, leather jacket, and heeled boots. Still, everything on her was expensive and Bela carried herself like a rich woman. The diamond earrings further added to the image.

She hadn't bought the earrings. They were the first things she'd ever stolen.

Bela opened the door of the bar. She smiled in satisfaction. It was clear women like her didn't frequent this place, judging by the people there and how they were looking at her.

She sat down, shifting to make sure the gun in her waistband remained hidden.

"ID?" the bartender asked. Which, Bela supposed, was reasonable. She was only freshly eighteen. But she gave the man an annoyed look, like she was used to getting what she wanted, before showing him a fake ID. Eliza Williams, twenty two.

"Martini," said Bela, smiling coolly at him. Bela was pretty sure that smiling coolly was the only way she could smile at this point.

Bela had barely taken a sip when she heard someone approach her. Record time.

"Good to see you again, Dee."

Bela froze, but it only took her a moment to compose herself. Smirk on her face, she turned to see the redhead. "Sorry, what's your name again?" she asked.

Charlie- Bela hadn't forgotten her name- seemed a little taken aback. "Charlie," she said, drawing herself up to her full height. Bela nodded disinterestedly and turned back to her drink. Charlie sat down beside Bela, who figured that she'd get thrown out. Charlie looked barely seventeen. But the bartender didn't even ask for an ID, just quirking his lips at Charlie and setting a beer in front of her. 

"So why'd you take off?" asked Charlie, sipping her beer.

Bela popped an olive into her mouth. "Hope I didn't hurt your feelings."

"You said you'd respect me in the morning," Charlie said, pouting. 

Bela chuckled despite herself. Charlie grinned broadly, like Bela's amusement was a prize.

"I had to leave town," Bela explained.

Charlie cocked her head. "Couldn't say goodbye?"

Bela sipped her martini to stall. "I had to leave," she repeated.

Charlie let it go. "How's your tum?" she asked, gesturing with her beer at Bela's abdomen.

"I heal fast," Bela said, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Charlie frowned.

"Did you ever go to a hospital?"

"Did you ever hack Bank of America?" Bela was deflecting. But it distracted Charlie, at least.

She lit up. "Yep. Check it out." Charlie showed Bela her necklace. "Cost fifty bucks, but it was so worth it." Bela inspected it. The pendant was a dark, clear cut stone, shaped somewhat like a pyramid. On it was, in white, a symbol that Bela remembered seeing somewhere.

Bela shrugged, leaning back in her chair. "Mediocre quality, quite an ugly symbol. The chain is the only part of any worth."

Charlie gaped at her. "It's the Resurrection Stone," she said, sounding shocked. "Come on, you're English, aren't you?"

Bela blinked. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You mean you've never read Harry Potter?" 

A servant had bought her the first book for her fourteenth birthday. "No," said Bela, a little annoyed. "Why?"

Charlie sighed. "Never mind. Point is, I got into Bank of America, and I have money for now."

"I'm glad," replied Bela, losing interest in the conversation.

"Enough money to buy you a drink," Charlie said after only a moment's hesitation. Bela turned to look at her incredulously.

"You're, what, seventeen?"

"Sixteen," said Charlie, a little defensive. "So what?" Bela laughed derisively.

"I'm not into statutory rape." 

Charlie crossed her arms. "Awfully confident, aren't you?" she asked, sounding irritated. 

"Stick with the people at your school and stop trying to piss off your parents," sighed Bela. She knew she'd said the wrong thing when Charlie's expression hardened.

"You're a bitch," said Charlie, turning away from Bela.

"So what are you trying to do?" asked Bela. "You don't know my name. I pulled a gun on you once and then left, leaving you a thousand dollars. And I'm an adult." Barely, but Charlie didn't need to know that. "You don't know anything else about me."

Charlie shrugged. "I know you're hot, and I'm the only lesbian at my school."

Bela raised an eyebrow. Neither of them spoke.

"Forget I asked, all right?" muttered Charlie.

"Sure," Bela said, suppressing a smile.

Charlie downed the rest of her beer.

"What's your real name?"

Bela thought for a moment. She had a million aliases, but there was one that felt more like her name than her birth name did. She didn't consider herself Abigail anymore.

"Bela," she told Charlie.

Charlie studied Bela for a moment, and, apparently finding the answer satisfactory, nodded and sat back.

"Cool."

Bela smiled.

They got drunk.

Bela hadn't gotten this drunk in a year.

Oops.

"I swear to God." Charlie was nearly falling off her stool laughing. Bela was holding onto her, laughing just as hard as Charlie. "His fucking face was on the news."

"Once, I framed someone for stealing a painting," Bela managed, "and then I put the painting back and broke him out of prison." They both dissolved into fresh peals of laughter.

(Okay, so maybe it was actually a bestiary from 1329, and maybe it was actually the basement of a coven of witches.)

"I hacked into a football player's email and got half the cheerleading squad mad at each other," Charlie had to stop to gasp for breath, "because they all thought he was into them." Bela almost fell off her stool. "And," Charlie added, trying to keep her laughter under control, "he turned out to be gay anyway."

They had been exchanging such stories for a while. Bela's hair was falling into her face, messy, and she knew her cheeks were the rosy color they got when she was drunk. Somehow, Bela was having so much fun she'd forgotten about appearances.

"One time I-" Bela is cut off by Charlie actually falling off her chair this time. Charlie sitting on her ass, they stared at each other for a second. They burst into laughter again.

"Fuck," Charlie mumbled between laughs. "Shit, what time is it?"

"Uh." Bela squinted at her watch. "Like. Late."

"School tomorrow," Charlie sighed. "Gotta go." Bela blinked. She realized with a start that Charlie's cell phone (why did that girl have a cell phone? For Christ's sake, her clothes looked like a homeless person's) hadn't rung. Charlie wasn't saying that her parents would be upset. Charlie had gotten pissed when Bela had mentioned her parents. Six months ago, Charlie's parents hadn't seemed to care what she was doing.

Bela pulled Charlie to her feet, laughing. "Didn't take you for the type to care about school." Bela's hand crept into Charlie's pocket, unnoticed by Charlie. "I've got to use the restroom. Don't leave yet."

Bela turned and walked away. Glancing over her shoulder, Charlie hadn't noticed the loss of her phone yet. Once she was in the safety of the bathroom, Bela flipped open Charlie's phone and wasted no time searching through her contacts. 

Aiden  
Alyssa  
Bonnie  
Chase  
Chloe  
Diane?

Bela paused at that, clicking on the name labeled Diane. Staring at the number, she realized it belonged to a phone she'd stopped using three months ago. It had been registered to Diane Turner. "Clever girl," Bela mumbled, smiling.

Fitz  
Jeremy  
Jon  
Kylie  
Mary  
Xander

No Mum, no Dad.

Frowning, Bela left the bathroom. Charlie had waited.

"Charlie," Bela said. Charlie looked up, and the grin that split her face was disarmingly genuine.

"Hi Bela!"

Bela laughed, putting her arm around Charlie's waist to guide her out of the bar. She slipped her phone back into her pocket.

"I'll drive you home?" offered Bela. She would've let Charlie walk, but she was looking for a specific reaction.

Sure enough, Charlie froze up. "Uh, I- I'm fine," she said, tripping over her words. "I- home isn't a far. Place. It's not far."

"No, it's all right," Bela assured her. Bela unlocked her car, guiding Charlie into the passenger seat. "What's your address?"

Charlie sat there, looking confused. "No, I'll- walk. I'll go." She tried to open the door, but Bela had already locked the car.

"It's not safe," insisted Bela. Even drunk, Bela was quite a bit more intelligent than other people. Bela had already determined that Charlie was, too, but, predictably, alcohol had dulled it.

"No, but-"

"What's your address, Charlie?" repeated Bela, a hard note to her voice. 

Charlie looked a little ashamed. "I- I don't have one."

"Where do you sleep?"

"The- the warehouse." Charlie's voice was almost inaudible. "The one-"

"I know which one," Bela said, sighing and leaning back in her seat. "Where are your parents?"

"Dead," said Charlie quietly.

Bela nodded slowly. An orphan like Bela.

Well. Not _just_ like Bela.

"Foster parents?"

"I ran away when I was fourteen."

"And you've lived in a warehouse ever since," Bela finished. It wasn't a question. Charlie nodded, her eyes fixed on her lap. Bela sighed. "Charlie, you-"

"When I was twelve, I was at a sleepover." Charlie's voice was small and weak. Bela felt something tighten in her chest. "I got scared, so I called my parents. Asked them to pick me up. And some drunk fucker crashed his car into them." Charlie gave a great shuddering breath, like she was trying to find strength to continue. Bela didn't dare to move, to speak, even to breathe too loudly. "My dad died. My mom's brain dead."

Bela was silent. Charlie looked up at her, tears shining from her cheeks. "My real name isn't even Charlie."

Bela could finally speak. "The name on my birth certificate isn't Bela," she admitted softly. "But my real name is Bela."

Charlie thought about that. "My real name is Charlie," she said, her voice a little stronger.

Bela nodded, smiling. "Good girl," she said quietly. She started the car and drove to the single nice hotel in Lafayette. Charlie blinked. 

"I don't-"

"I know," Bela cut her off. "You're not sleeping in that warehouse tonight."

Charlie was either too drunk or too drained to protest, but she nodded.

They went into the hotel. Bela booked the penthouse. At that point, Charlie was practically passing out in her arms, and Bela had to support her all the way up to the top floor.

"Charlie?" Bela murmured. "Charlie."

Charlie groaned wordlessly, her eyes closed. Bela sighed and let her flop unceremoniously onto the bed. Charlie let out a sigh of content, stretching out happily on the king sized bed. Bela managed to get Charlie's sneakers off. Bela stared down at the teenager for a moment, wondering how long it had been since Charlie had slept in a real bed.

Bela changed into her pajamas and went to shower, brushing her teeth before she grabbed a pillow and lay on the couch.

Bela's last thought before she went to sleep was wondering why the hell she had given Charlie the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that. I might actually finish this story. Then again, it's still only chapter 2.


	3. Chapter 3

_boys working on empty; is that the kind of way to face the burning heat?_

When Bela woke up, Charlie was still fast asleep. The sun hadn't risen yet, which Bela thanked whatever excuse for a God was up there for. She didn't have to sleep much, but that didn't mean she didn't get hangovers.

God, Bela hated getting drunk.

Sighing, Bela got off the couch and went to take a shower and brush her teeth. It felt like there was moss growing in her mouth. She was glad the lights had dimmers, because her head was pounding.

Bela took a long, hot shower. She was already in town and nobody had called with a job, so she might as well stay for a while. Walking back into the room, wrapped in a fluffy towel, she stopped for a moment to look at Charlie. Asleep, the girl looked even smaller and scrawnier than usual.

Bela got into comfortable clothes, took a Tylenol, and sat on the couch. She'd found an old Vogue in the room, and looking at outdated fashion was better than reading a book or some bullshit.

It took three hours for the sun to rise completely, and another half hour before Bela deemed the room service available. She ordered a full breakfast and set upon it hungrily when it arrived in the room.

Charlie slept on and on. Bela hadn't spent time with people for a while, and since she only slept a couple hours a night Bela was surprised and admittedly impressed when Charlie's eyes finally blinked open at 11:32.

"Morning, sweetheart," Bela said cheerfully, coffee in hand.

"Ugh." Charlie rolled over, burying her face in a pillow. "What time is it?"

"Eleven thirty," Bela said, leaning back and putting up her feet.

"Oh God. Why the _hell_ did I get drunk on a _Tuesday?_ What's _wrong_ with me?" groaned Charlie.

"Relax," Bela said, smiling and perfectly aware she was being unhelpful. Charlie didn't budge.

"I'm dying."

"Don't be dramatic."

"How are you not hungover?"

"I heal fast."

"Fuck you."

Bela laughed. "Are you hungry? There's food."

Charlie lifted her face from the pillows slightly. "I could be convinced to eat," she said after a moment. "But I need Advil right the fuck now."

Bela lifted a bottle of ibuprofen tantalizingly. "Get over here. I'm not your maid." Reluctantly, Charlie dragged herself out of bed and took two pills, dry swallowing with apparently practiced ease. Bela took note but made no comment.

After brushing her teeth and changing into Bela's clothes, Charlie was in a much better mood, although she still insisted on having the curtains drawn.

"Can I have breakfast in bed?" Please?" Charlie added, batting her eyelashes. Bela rolled her eyes. She was about to tell Charlie not to be a child, but it was a somewhat abrupt realization that Charlie was, in fact, a child. One who lived in an abandoned warehouse and showered at school.

"All right."

Charlie's expression of sheer joy was worth getting crumbs in the sheets. They climbed into bed. Bela balanced the tray on their knees precariously, and Charlie promptly made herself comfortable.

"Get the remote," Charlie commanded. Bela made a face at her, but did as she was told. Bela handed the remote over to Charlie, who managed to juggle flipping through the channels at the speed of sound and eating pancakes at the speed of light.

"Do we have syrup?" asked Charlie, her eyes fixed on the television and her mouth spraying bits of pancake. 

"You're disgusting," Bela informed Charlie, pouring syrup on her pancakes for her. Charlie shrugged happily.

Charlie finally settled on Star Wars. It took Bela an embarrassingly long moment to recognize it.

"You do know what movie this is, right?" Charlie asked, smiling.

"Of course," Bela said, affronted. "Star Wars."

"Which one?" Charlie challenged.

Bela furrowed her brow. It was old, that much was clear, but she couldn't quite tell which one it was.

"The second one?" she tried.

"Return of the Jedi," Charlie said, sighing. "Damn, you are so lucky you have me to guide you."

Bela swatted at Charlie, who dodged with a grin.

Charlie leaned back, comfortable. Bela put the tray down on the floor beside the bed and crossed her arms behind her head, eyes drifting shut. She didn't need to sleep, no, but she'd never much liked these movies.

Half an hour later, and Bela realized that Charlie had snuggled up against her.

Bela could've shoved her away. Could've kicked her out. Could've done any number of things. But she didn't do anything. 

She was well aware that Charlie had spent too long with no family, no home, and a general lack of basic necessities. Bela had been there. The world was too awful to face without any advantages. 

Bela couldn't fix Charlie's life, but she could provide a bed and someone to cuddle with. 


	4. Chapter 4

_my baby's sweet as can be_

They'd been watching TV for six hours (and Charlie had fallen asleep for the last three) when Bela's cell rang. 

More accurately, Eliza Williams' cell did. 

Bela got out of bed, careful not to disturb Charlie, and picked up the phone. 

"Speaking?" said Bela. 

"Um, hi." The voice was young, high, uncertain. 

"Hello, young man. Do you need assistance?" Bela asked, her small reservoir of patience already draining. 

"Uh, yeah. I'm Tom. I mean, Thomas Broderick. I need help finding something."

Bela pulled her laptop to her and looked up Broderick. 

Thomas Broderick was the son of Gerard Broderick. The father was CEO of Broderick Consolidated. Net worth: 2.1 billion dollars. She checked the stocks. Mr. Broderick was not doing too well there. It had been a steep and rapid decline for two months. 

"That's what I do, darling," Bela replied, tiring of this conversation. "But unless the thing you need to find is worth a few million and involves abracadabra, you'd be better off hiring a private detective."

"I- I think it involves m-magic." The boy was uncertain. "I don't know. But I'll pay you whatever you want."

"Sweetheart, have you ever actually dealt with magic?" asked Bela.

"N-no."

"Well, Tommy boy, best be sure before you call the best in the field and waste her damn time," snapped Bela. 

"A million dollars!" Thomas Broderick shouted before she could hang up. "A million. Please, I need help."

"That's pocket change for you, boy. Your father shits diamonds," she snarled. 

"Five million."

"Stop wasting my time."

"Ten million!" he shouted. "Ten million dollars!"

Bela paused. "See, now you can come to the grown up table, Tommy boy."

"Okay," said Thomas, clearly relieved. "Here's what I want you to do."

Bela clicked her tongue. "No. Here's how this will work. I will ask questions, and you will answer them."

Silence. 

"How did you find this number?" Bela asked first. 

"My mother," Thomas answered without hesitation. "Mina Tholgood. She was our housekeeper. I didn't know she was my mother until last year, so I visited her last March. She's only thirty nine, but she's blind. She gave me this number and told me to call it if Allison did anything. Allison is my dad's wife, and my mom thinks Allison blinded her, and I think she's bringing down my father's company." Thomas took a deep breath. "With magic."

"Fascinating," Bela said dryly. "What do you want me to do? I'm not a hunter."

"A hunter?"

"Never mind. What's the job?"

"I want you to find what she's using to destroy my father's company and bring it to me," Thomas said in one breath. 

"Okay. Now listen carefully. Wire the funds to this account-" Bela listed off the number. She had all her account numbers memorized. "And do it by next Friday. I'll have finished a week after you pay me."

"Don't you need other information?" asked Thomas, surprised. 

Bela laughed. "Oh, Tommy boy. The green ones are my favorite."

She hung up and went around the room humming, packing her things. 

"Can I come?"

Bela whirled around so fast she almost fell over. 

"You heard that?" she asked, a little horrorstruck. 

Charlie nodded. "I didn't really get any of it, but I got that you're leaving for work. I can help. I'm really good with computers." Her earnestness was clear and genuine. 

"No, you can't come. Don't be ridiculous," Bela said shortly. "You're sixteen. And I'm not dragging a scrawny girl who's completely new to the business on a job."

Charlie looked crestfallen. Bela turned around so she wouldn't have to look at it and continued packing. 

"I once stole money from Broderick Consolidated," Charlie blurted after a few minutes. 

Bela turned to stare at her. 

Charlie sighed. "I'm just saying. I don't even know what you're doing. All I heard was magic and ten million dollars."

"Yes, I do magic shows for wealthy people," Bela said crisply. 

Charlie harrumphed. "Why can't I go with you?"

"Because you can't."

"You sound like a mom," Charlie muttered, yanking the covers up to her chin. "You're too hot to be a mom."

Bela shot her a look as she went around the room collecting the last things she needed. She picked up her fake ID and looked at it a moment. 

"How good are you with fake IDs, fake badges, things like that?" asked Bela abruptly. 

Charlie brightened noticeably. "Good," she said eagerly. "Really good."

"And free." Bela waggled the card in the air. "Good ones aren't cheap. You can come."

Charlie's face split into a wide grin. "Thank you!" she said excitedly. "Thank you so much!"

"Don't make me regret it," muttered Bela. With one look at Charlie's ecstatic face, she knew she wouldn't.

**Author's Note:**

> Section titles are from Hozier's 'Work Song.'


End file.
